


you'll find me (on the mountains fair and blue)

by feritas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Brief mention of future children, Courting Rituals, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mountain Spirit Kylo, Scavenger Rey (Star Wars), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, brief mention of pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feritas/pseuds/feritas
Summary: “What if I refuse your offer?”“Then you’re welcome to leave my home,” Ben answers. “But I must warn you,” he cautions, turning his gaze to rest upon the window at the front of the house.Rey turns to look as well, noting the darkness visible through the clear glass, the flurries of white snow raining down.“We are east of the sun and west of the moon now,” he continues, “And only those with magic in their blood may find their way back to the land of men. If you leave now you may find yourself wandering a forest caught in perpetual night, lost among the trees forever.”Or: After saving Rey from a snowstorm, mountain spirit Kylo Ren asks Rey to be his bride. Thinking she is an offering from Jakku, he offers to court her through the winter, and to return her to Jakku if she does not accept him by the time spring arrives.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 195
Collections: To Rapture the Earth and the Seas: the 2020 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology





	you'll find me (on the mountains fair and blue)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the mods of the RFFA, and all the hard work they do organizing this event. I had such a fun time with this story!
> 
> There's a brief mention of pregnancy in regards to Rey and future children. If you'd like to know more skip on down to the end notes for a description.

* * *

The first thing she is aware of as her mind struggles to return to the waking world is the distinct feeling of an all encompassing warmth surrounding her body—as if from a nearby fireplace—and the rich smell of freshly baked bread. Rey stills, breath stuttering for a moment as her mind tries to tie the sensations before her closed eyelids with memories of Plutt’s derelict scrap house.

“So you’re awake now,” come the words from a nearby disembodied voice, deep and resonant. “And do not bother denying it, for I’ve seen the way your breath has stilled.”

 _Where is my staff?_ Rey wonders in the milliseconds before she opens her eyes.

Blinking awake, she notices the fire from the hearth burns strongly, casting a radiant orange light that illuminates the place she finds herself in. She doesn’t give herself a chance to look, for nothing draws her attention so sharply as the man who stands at the foot of the bed she’s lying in. The firelight catches against the curve of a high cheekbone, the bridge of a strong nose and deep set brows. Black curls frame a pale face dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. He's huge, Rey realizes, a mountain of a man, all broad shoulders and a solidly built torso as thick as the trunk of an old oak tree.

His eyes catch her own, the color difficult to ascertain from this distance but gaze intense as he looks her over. There is something alien in his scrutiny, an otherness hiding behind his eyes.

She doesn’t recognize who this man is—certainly not someone from the village, with the healthy sheen of color on his cheeks and his thick, well made winter clothes. Rey attempts to sit up, noting for the first time that beneath the sheets, her outer layers have been removed, leaving her only in her underclothes and ratty undershirt.

Before she can yell at him in outrage, she sees him lift a gloved hand, palm out, as if to entreat her.

“I meant no disrespect. You were halfway dead when I found you in the storm and brought you back to my home. Having you sleep in your cold and wet clothes would have proved more dangerous, better to remove them and keep you warm,” he explains.

Slowly Rey begins to remember: her fight with the pair of Plutt’s scavengers, the chase up the mountain, and the subsequent snowstorm. She remembers losing her way, the frigid bite of the cold, the dawning realization that she would die before ever seeing her parents again.

But—she isn’t dead. She’s alive, though it does little to reassure her at the moment.

“Where am I?” Rey asks, disoriented and apprehensive. Her hands curl into fists, gripping the blanket tight between her fingers. The bed she is lying in is large—and the softest thing she’s ever slept on—with blankets of white wool, heavy and soft as summer clouds. They’re a far cry from the thin pallet in her shack back in Jakku.

“My home, as I’ve said,” he answers, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to encompass the place they find themselves in.

Rey finally allows herself to take in her surroundings, noting for the first time that the walls of the house seem to be made from stone: not any man-made bricks but a continuous sheet of black rock. There is a large table in the far corner, made of some dark and sturdy wood, and the floor is covered with tapestries woven with intricate patterns, all in browns and reds and golds, which give Rey the impression of autumn leaves having just fallen onto the forest floor.

It is larger than many of the homes she’s seen in Jakku, but that doesn’t mean much, as all the homes there are derelict and paltry things, providing no respite from the heat in summer and little protection from the bitter winds in winter.

“Please,” she says at length, “I must return home.”

His intense stare sweeps her up and down, noting the trembling in her arms as she struggles to keep herself sitting upright.

“And where is home?” he asks.

“Jakku,” she answers, working to keep her voice even and steady despite the fatigue that threads through her body.

The man studies her a moment, and it seems as though the winter’s very winds emanate from his gaze.

Rey’s heart thuds, a rapidly growing realization falling upon her. Dim memories come to light: a forgotten encounter from when she was a child and received help from the old woman living on the outskirts of town. A story told to her to distract her from an empty belly. She remembers the tale of a young woman left out in the snow to die as an offering to the spirits. Of the spirit of winter itself coming to her in the shape of a man, who spared her life due to the girl’s kindness and beauty.

“You’re not a man,” Rey whispers, hardly believing the words as she says them. “Who are you?”

He doesn’t bother denying her claim.

“I am not Death, nor am I Winter, if that will calm your fears,” the spirit reassures her, taking a step closer to the bed. “You may call me Kylo Ren, and I am lord of these mountains.”

Not all of the stories end happy, Rey remembers, trying to look for her staff. There are tales of girls left to freeze in the winter snow, of maidens taken in the dark of night and never seen again. And who is to say that those taken by the spirits lived long. What are mortal women to ancient immortal beings? _He wouldn't have saved you only to kill you_ , she reasons. But nothing in life is free, that much she knows to be true. If he has saved her, he’ll have his own reasons for doing so.

“Kylo, thank you for saving me,” she says. _Show_ _gratitude_ , she thinks, _They don’t like to be insulted._

His full lips purse, as if working on what he wants to say.

But in the end he only nods, pointing to her neatly folded clothes at the foot of the bed which she’d previously missed.

“You’ve yet to finish recovering, come, there is some bread and stew for you to eat,” he says. “I will wait for you at the table.” He poses this not as a request but as an order, and though it rankles Rey to be ordered about, she recalls countless nights spent with a hollow and empty stomach. It’s taught her to never deny food or pass it up when available.

She watches as he turns around and walks to the table, taking a seat so that his back is turned towards her.

Rey changes as quickly as she can, though it isn’t very fast, all things considered. Just lifting her arms over her head to put on her threadbare shirt leaves her tired. She works on her wool socks, though she sees no sign of her boots nor her staff. Resigned, she makes her way over to the table.

The earlier smell of bread becomes apparent once she sees the spread laid out before her. There is a whole loaf of fresh bread cut into warm, thick slices, and a porcelain bowl filled to the brim with fragrant stew. A silver pitcher rests near Kylo, polished to a fine sheen, inlaid with creeping vines along the handle and ferns across the base.

Rey takes her seat across from him, keeping the wall at her back. Kylo pours her a cup of the drink, mead, she guesses from its golden color. She surveys the food, more than she’s had in a very long time, though she doesn't yet take any.

His lips twitch at her expression. “I can assure you it’s not poisoned.”

Once it is clear she won’t take any despite his reassurances, he nods once, as if pleased with her decision. He grabs a slice of black bread and brings it to his mouth, taking a hearty bite then washing it down with mead from his own cup.

Satisfied at last, Rey lunges forward, grabbing her own slice of bread and turning toward her still steaming stew. It doesn’t matter that she burns the roof of her mouth when she devours it, the taste is a hundred times better than the portions she’s lived on for most of her life, and there are real pieces of meat in it. The mead she drinks is sweet and light, cold as stream water in winter and it does wonders to clear her head.

Kylo doesn’t interrupt her once while she eats, preferring to take a moment and observe her over the rim of his cup as he drinks, content to let her have her fill.

Before she knows it, Rey has finished half the loaf and there is nothing left in her bowl, not even a drop of liquid or a bit of carrot. The last of her mead goes down easily, but she declines when Kylo lifts the pitcher, head tilted in offering. She feels a little more grounded now, with food in her belly and warm clothes on her back. For a moment she resents the feeling. It will make it all the harder to return to Jakku and her life there, where there are no beds of soft down and no hearty meals waiting for her at the end of a long day. Gathering her wits about her, Rey straightens her back, focusing once again on Kylo Ren.

“Why did you save me?” There is the hint of a demand in her own voice.

“Let us start with your name first, since I have given you mine already,” he replies, the curve of his mouth crooked and a little wry.

“Rey,” she answers, supposing it is a fair question after all.

Kylo nods, as if the answer does not surprise him. “I told you earlier that I am not the spirit of Winter. But there are some things that are the same between us, some traditions that men have practiced in our name. Offerings, and sacrifices of food, of clothes, of blood.”

Rey feels the first stirring of unease begin to drip down her spine.

“It has been...quite some time since I have been offered a maiden,” he continues, “And longer still since I have considered accepting.”

Kylo continues speaking, but Rey can’t hear it for the dull roaring of blood rushing through her veins.

“Yes,” Kylo muses, nodding as he watches her from across the table. “I can see that you are quick-witted, strong willed and fearless. Even now, knowing what I am, you refuse to be meek.”

“But—I’m not an offering. I was lost in the woods, I meant to make my way back to Jakku,” Rey argues, fighting to correct his perception of who she is. “I wasn’t supposed to be so far away in the first place.”

He frowns, the edges of his full mouth turning downward. “Who awaits you at home? Jakku is a hard and thankless place where suffering abounds. I am willing to offer you something better.”

She shakes her head, whether in denial of his words or refusal to answer his question she cannot say.

“Give me an honest answer, Rey,” he demands, and now his voice is like the deep rumble of boulders grinding together, not that of a man. “What is it that keeps you there? Is it loneliness? Are you afraid to leave Jakku?”

His words pierce her, seem to strike at the inner heart of her. “Get out of my head!” she snarls, jerking away from the table.

“I see only what you allow to be seen. Come, I’ve saved your life and all I ask for is this.”

 _All he asks_ , as if it were some paltry thing. As if the answer were not the very basis upon which her world rests. She could refuse. For one delirious moment she imagines bolting from the table and towards the door, back out into the snow, making her escape. The fantasy is tempting, but she just as quickly dismisses it, for the risks are too great.

“My parents. I’m waiting for my parents,” she grits out, working not to bear her teeth at him.

Kylo Ren jerks back as if slapped. He doesn't say anything for a long moment.

Finally, he shakes his head, dark curls falling across his face. “I will make you an offer. Winter has just arrived to the mountains, and it will be some moons before the earth is ready for spring. Allow me to court you until the first blooms of spring emerge from beneath the snow. If you decide to stay, we will be wed.” He pauses for a moment. “But if at the end you still wish to return to Jakku, I will personally escort you back.”

“What if I refuse your offer?”

“Then you’re welcome to leave my home,” he answers. “But I must warn you,” he cautions, turning his gaze to rest upon the window at the front of the house.

Rey turns to look as well, noting the darkness visible through the clear glass, the flurries of white snow raining down.

“We are east of the sun and west of the moon now,” he continues, “And only those with magic in their blood may find their way back to the land of men. If you leave now you may find yourself wandering a forest caught in perpetual night, lost among the trees forever.”

His words ring in the air with a silver flash of truth, and Rey believes his warnings. Months, he’s proposing she stay here for months, not knowing if her parents may return for her in that time. She can’t, it’s a risk she can’t take.

The sight of her expression causes Kylo to sigh, the sound coming from deep within his chest. “I am lord of these mountains and keeper of its lands. I will keep an eye on any strangers that arrive in Jakku and inform you immediately if they do. I give you my word.”

“Do you swear by it?” she pushes.

“I do not make promises lightly, but you may have my word I will remain vigilant.”

_You have waited all these years Rey. You know all about waiting, you can make it through a few moons more. And when all is said and done, and your parents have returned, you can forget this ever even happened, like a dream you forget at the dawn’s first rays._

The air between them seems to come alive with tension the longer she deliberates her answer. In the end, all it takes are two simple words.

“I agree.”

Kylo Ren leans over the table to pour more mead into her cup in triumph, and Rey decides his eyes are the tawny shade of a stag’s summer hide.

* * *

The morning dawns bright and clear, the world outside covered in a blanket of pristine snow.

“I have something to show you,” Kylo says, giving her a secretive look after a breakfast of hearty porridge.

Rey expects Kylo to offer her fine gifts, the sorts of presents the girls in the stories receive—beautiful things, useless things. She has no use for hair brushes made of polished glass, fine dresses or delicate slippers of finely woven silk. Not as a scavenger.

Those gifts would be easy to refuse, for they hold little sway over her.

Instead he presents her with a new winter coat, the fur thick and soft beneath her exploring fingertips. The shape is cut perfectly to her size, the sleeves not an inch longer or shorter than needed, with room enough to stretch her arms. It is a practical gift, and one Rey can appreciate.

“I’ll hope you find it to your liking, but that isn’t what I was hoping to show you. For that we will have to go outside,” he says, striding through the doorway and into the shining world beyond.

Rey makes haste with her boots, returned to her yesterday evening, and makes her way after him.

The cottage, as she suspected, is not built at all, but carved into the base of a mountain. It is so expertly constructed it hardly looks like a house, with only the regular, straight lines of the doorway and windows to suggest there exists anything man-made. In front of her looms the entrance to the forest, bordered by giant pines whose boughs strain beneath the weight of fallen snow. Out in the distance, Rey can just make out the summits of an unknown mountain range. She doesn’t recognize any of the visible landmarks, the landscape laid out before her strange and uncharted. She works to keep the feeling of apprehension from rising within her.

A piercing whistle breaks the stillness.

She tenses, fingers twitching. Kylo stills, eyes trained on the darkened entrance to the forest.

There is a shuffling in the distance, the faint sound of hooves breaking through snow. Rey watches, as the noise sounds closer and closer. A great black stallion trots out from beneath the arms of the evergreens, lifting his forelegs high to clear the snow.

Rey has never seen a horse up close before. The closest she’d gotten were their faint silhouettes glimpsed from a distance as wealthy travelers skirted the edges of Jakku in search of better destinations. The stallion sidles up to Kylo, arching its elegant neck to hang over his shoulder, ears swiveling towards Rey in curiosity.

“I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced, as you were unconscious by the time we carried you from the storm,” he says, laying a gloved hand on the beast’s long nose. “Khyber is my mount, and a very fine one indeed.”

 _Anyone with eyes can see that_ , Rey thinks privately. She knows little in the way of horses, but anyone could see the black stallion is beautiful, the sheen of his coat glinting like obsidian in the sunlight, with a thick mane and finely muscled haunches.

“We’ll ride him today,” Kylo continues—

“Barring the fact that until now I have never seen a horse up close, let alone ridden one—you’ve yet to tell me where we’re even going!” she snaps.

Kylo narrows his eyes. “Khyber has never let me fall, and I can assure you he'll take the same care with you. As for _where_ we’re going, I think you’ll like what I have planned. I saw your staff—”

“So you do have it!”

“—and I believe you might like to learn how to hunt.”

His answer surprises her.

“Isn’t that against your rules as a spirit?” Rey questions.

“Do you plan on abusing or misusing whatever I may teach you today?” he counters, deliberately scrutinizing her.

“Of course not!”

“Then I fail to see a problem. The predators that make a home of this mountain range kill only what they need in order to survive. As long as you do the same, then one more stag felled by your arrow doesn’t concern me.”

Khyber seems to have grown tired of their conversation and paws the ground in impatience. Kylo turns to grab a fistful of dark mane and, in one fluid motion, hauls himself onto the stallion.

Rey is not afraid of Khyber, despite the horse’s size and spirited nature, but she’s no fool either. The lack of saddle or harness worries her.

From his seat perched on Khyber’s bare back, Kylo reaches a large hand down in invitation. “I assured you he would not drop you,” he reminds her. “Shall we go?”

Rey stares into his dark eyes, wondering if he’d really let her refuse. Something tells her he would, though she suspects he’d be upset. But, she cannot deny her curiosity at his offer. Whatever game had ever existed near Jakku had long ago learned to stay clear, and now all that is left are the occasional eerie late-night howls from lonely wolves. Learning to hunt would let her eat something besides Plutt’s stale rations. It could lead her to making hides, maybe even leave her with enough left over to sell and earn a little money.

She decides she can’t refuse.

She slides her palm into his waiting hand. The thick leather gloves both wear dull the feeling as she touches him, but his grip is strong and sure as he hauls her up in front of him.

Rey will forever deny it, but she lets out a squawk when Kylo’s arms come around her, caging her in as she feels the warmth of his chest against her back.

“Grab a fistful of his mane, and grip onto his sides with your legs,” he instructs her. As soon as she does, she feels the stallion leap forward, legs kicking up snow behind them as Kylo leads them into the forest.

Riding, Rey finds out, is an exhilarating experience. The power beneath her legs is apparent with every movement Khyber makes as he gallops. The trees in her vision blur as they pick up speed. She works not to notice Kylo Ren almost holding her, steadying her body between the circle of his arms. Instead she focuses on the sun shining down, the intense smell of pine trees, the chirping of birdsong high above their heads.

When the muscles in Rey’s thighs begin to ache, Kylo gives some unspoken command and the stallion begins to slow down, sides heaving as he eases to a canter, and then to a walk. Eventually Kylo gives a firm tug, and they come to rest in a large clearing bordered by pines.

“Thank you,” she whispers to Khyber once they’ve dismounted, watching his ears flick forward as if in acknowledgment.

“You require the proper tools before we begin,” Kylo tells her, walking towards a copse of hickory and oak trees to their left. “And for the proper tools one requires the proper materials. Any one of these trees would make a fine bow, but it is up to you to decide which one you’d like,” he says, sweeping his arm in offering at the dozens of trees that lay before them.

Rey frowns, shuffling closer to stare up at the snow covered branches before them. Choose how? She walks back and forth, staring at the same dark colored trunks as she deliberates. If any of them will fit her needs, there’s no need to be specific. Any one she chooses should suffice. Satisfied, Rey is about to choose the trunk to her left when she feels a prickle along the back of her neck. She looks behind herself, gliding past one tree and then another before arriving at the base of a younger oak tree.

Something tugs at the edge of her senses, some instinct leading her. Kylo hovers, quite behind her, following her movements with his gaze.

“This one,” she decides, pointing to the young oak.

He reaches forward, closing his eyes as he comes to rest his hand against the trunk. His brow furrows, full lips forming the shapes of strange inaudible words as Rey looks on. Kylo pulls away. One moment there is nothing in his hands, and in the next he grips the spine of an elegant bow in one and a quiver of arrows in the other.

Kylo nods, looking pleased. “You chose well,” he informs her, placing the bow in her hands. “I hope it serves you well.”

She does not expect the weight of the bow to feel comforting in her hands, nor to appreciate it’s practical beauty. But she does, surprisingly. The bow is perfect for her size, the string difficult to pull back but not impossible, with the oak gleaming as if freshly shined.

She looks up, catching a quick glimpse of satisfaction on Kylo’s face before he works to school it into a neutral expression.

Her hazel eyes flash up at him. “It is a fine tool indeed,” she agrees. “But now, we must test its mettle.”

It is strange, walking amongst the snow with what appears like a man but is not a man at all. Rey is quick and light on her feet, but even she cannot escape disturbing the snow, causing faint whispers with every step. Beside her, Kylo seems to float, with nary a sound made as he leads her away from the clearing, not even the edges of his long cloak causing a whisper as they drag across the ice.

He decides on a different clearing, the trees spaced further apart from each other as they stop below the drooping arms of an old holly tree.

“What do you know of hunting?” he asks her, reaching for her bow.

“Not much,” Rey replies, watching as he tests its strength and dexterity.

He plucks one of the arrows from the quiver, notching it in the bow before handing both back to her. “Then I will suggest one thing before we begin. Patience will be your greatest ally.”

At his words, Rey cannot help the warring emotions in her chest, simultaneously elated and aching. He has no clue what she knows of waiting. She doesn’t think it’ll be too difficult to master.

Kylo teaches her, showing her the correct positions for her hands and arms, how far back to pull the string, where to focus her gaze so her aim is true. Her first attempts go wide, and she loses some arrows that way, shooting farther into the forest instead of at her target. The first time one of her arrows hits the intended tree trunk with a resounding _thwunk,_ she grins.

Then there is only the waiting to do.

It might be minutes or hours later—she’s not sure, for time seems to move differently in this forest—when she sees the faint outline of an animal making its way towards them. Her breath catches in her throat at the stag that emerges into the clearing, its winter antlers curving high above its head. From beside her Kylo speaks, his breath ghosting along the shell of her ear.

“You must let him come closer. Aim for his heart, and aim true. You only have the one chance.”

Rey focuses, breath shallow as she brings her bow into position, her line of sight following the tip of the arrow. She feels that familiar prickle along the back of her neck, the world narrowing down to the breath in her lungs and the deer in front of her, head bowed as he forages for grass buried beneath the winter frost.

She pulls back, arm tight with tension, waiting for the perfect moment. The stag turns, and his flank turns parallel to hers.

The zing of the arrow as it flies through the air lasts only a second before her arrow hits—striking true. The stag falls at their feet, her arrow buried deep inside its chest.

Kylo makes a low noise in the back of his throat, glancing away from the deer and back towards her. “You’ve done well.”

It brings her no joy to take a life, but now there is a way for her to provide for herself even on those nights when scavenging can’t afford her enough portions. The relief that rises beneath her breast is difficult to ignore, but she can’t deny that this afternoon Kylo has gifted her is appreciated.

When she turns to him, she sees something suspiciously like pride glinting for a second behind Kylo’s eyes.

* * *

Rey has never lived with another person for an extended period of time. As the days begin to pass, she and Kylo fall into an uneasy rhythm, their days structured around the rising and the setting of the sun. Kylo takes her several more times into the woods for further practice, but not before presenting her with a finely woven bracelet. The threads alternate in color between strands of wool dyed black and red. A small charm is tied to one end, and upon closer inspection Rey makes out the finely carved shape of a horse.

“If you are ever in danger, break the strands of this bracelet and help will arrive,” Kylo explains to her, hands warm as they tie the ends together around her wrist.

Afterwards they head for the forest, Kylo has her hunt smaller and smaller game as she improves. Despite her growing familiarity with the bow she’s slowly becoming accustomed to calling hers, she still misses shots more often than not. Hunting the mountain hares whose ivory fur camouflage them against the snow proves especially difficult, with Rey losing quite a few of her arrows when tracking them down.

Kylo Ren remains a gracious host, for there is always a hearty breakfast awaiting her in the morning and a warm dinner with mead to look forward to in the evening. Though she rarely sees him eat, he waits with her and prefers to talk once she’s done. He’s learned quite quickly that she is difficult to distract when a fresh slice of bread or a bowl of honey porridge lays before her.

But there are also days where he is long gone by the time the morning birds' sweet song wakes her up, and if she steps out and sees Khyber missing as well, then she knows he will not return until late. Time crawls by on those days, and Rey entertains herself by perusing the small library tucked away in the corner of the dwelling. She finds herself especially fond of reading an old book of poetry, relegated to a dusty corner of the bookshelf. Its pages are yellow and brittle with age, and the cover’s color is dull and faded, but she likes it best of all. The poems inside are written in a neat script, the words melancholy and lonely. They wrap around her heart and though they are only words on a page, she discovers a sort of kinship with the unknown author, to know someone somewhere felt the same as she did.

_Profoundly still the twilight air,_

_Lifeless the landscape; so we deem_

_Till like a phantom gliding near_

_A stag bends down to drink the stream._

_And far away a mountain zone,_

_A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,_

_And one star, large and soft and lone,_

_Silently lights the unclouded skies._

It is on one of those days that Kylo returns to the cottage late—much later than he has ever returned. The sun has slipped far below the jagged peaks of the mountains to the west when she hears Khyber whinny in the distance. By the time the pounding of heavy footsteps echo outside the door, twilight has descended on the mountain. The door slams open a moment later and a broad shape bursts into the room, spilling icy cold into the warm cottage. Kylo prowls back and forth across the room like some cornered animal, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Rey stares as the scene before her unfolds. Kylo snatches a silver chalice from the tabletop and hurls it with all his strength at a far wall. It explodes, spraying mead all across the floor and walls.

Rey tenses, eyes darting to the open doorway then back towards her bow resting on the bed. She shuffles towards it, but the sound causes Kylo to jerk his head in her direction. For a moment the eyes that stare back at her from his pale face seem once again alien, something of the wilderness running like a current beneath his skin. His chest heaves with the breaths he’s taking, a lock of black hair having fallen across his forehead. Seeing her inching towards the bow seems to snap him back from his rage: not all the way but some.

“There was an avalanche on one of the southern ridges,” he grits out. “There had been men out hunting the caribou. No—not hunting, _slaughtering_. They dared take from the mountain without offering anything in return, not even to ask for my blessing.” The whites of his eyes glitter in the low light from the fireplace.

“They killed half the herd and caused the rest to stampede up the slope. The avalanche buried them all, man and animal, and it was a senseless _waste,”_ he snarls.

Rey thinks of all the people back in Jakku, thinks of the ones they lose to hunger and despair every winter, bodies found pale and stiff in the bleak morning light. Thinks of how harsh this winter had been, and how if she’d known how to hunt she’d have done what’s necessary to survive. She inhales sharply.

“Maybe they were only trying not to starve,” she reasons.

It is the wrong thing to say.

“Then they should starve! They were greedy, they had no respect for the mountains and they paid the price for their folly.”

“How could you say they all deserved to die?” she shouts. “People need to eat! Desperate people will do what it takes to survive. You’re lord of the mountains, surely you see the poor villages at the edge of your territory who suffer under the long winters and scorching summers.”

His eyes narrow dangerously. “What do I care for men? Men who don’t even have the decency to place offerings on their doorstep, who have forgotten the old ways?”

She feels her own fury begin to burn, the edges of her vision blurring as she glares at Kylo. “Then they must all suffer?! Even the women and children?” She was once one of those children, and Kylo’s indifference settles like an icy grip around her throat.

“I am lord of these mountains, of the animals and streams and forests. The providence of men is not under my control,” he answers, the arrogant tilt of his head shattering her patience.

Hazel eyes flash up at him, mutinous and shining with tears. “You’re a monster,” Rey spits.

A gust of wind slams through the still open door, banking the fire and plunging them into near darkness.

“Yes, I am,” Kylo agrees, though there is no venom in his voice now. For a moment Rey hates the face looking down at her.

She bolts.

She wrenches the bow and quiver from the bed, spinning beneath Kylo’s outstretched arm. “I can’t do this anymore,” she pants, sprinting out of the door and into the night outside. She hears Kylo yelling her name, but she doesn't pause a second to look behind her and check if he’s following her. Ignoring the icy air that feels like shards in her chest when she breathes in, she heads for the entrance to the forest and leaves Kylo and the stone cottage behind.

Rey runs for hours, terrified that at any moment a black stallion will emerge from the darkness with Kylo coming to take her back. The stitch in her side has long transformed into a constant ache that throbs in time with every breath she takes. In her haste to leave, she left behind her gloves, and the tips of her fingers and nose have become numb from the cold. The bow does her little good right now, for she cannot even properly notch an arrow—her fingers are so stiff. The forest looms around her, seemingly unchanging, but Rey trudges on, passing beneath an arch formed by the boughs of an ancient hemlock.

Her best chance at survival will mean waiting for the sun to rise so she can orient herself and begin heading east. During her outings with Kylo, she’d spied a peak that seemed promising, easy enough to climb and tall enough for her to perhaps catch sight of a familiar landmark that might point her towards Jakku.

Exhausted, Rey finally stops, finding a lonely pine and digging out snow from between its sinuous roots to shelter from the wind. The reality of her predicament and lack of supplies threaten to overwhelm her with despair, but she only grits her teeth harder. In the morning things will look better, and she’ll be on her way back. Her breaths begin to even out from one moment to the next and some minutes later Rey closes her eyes, slipping into an uneasy sleep.

It feels like only moments later when a piercing howl awakens her. The sun has yet to rise, and Rey believes it to still be the early hours of the morning. A second later, another howl echoes on the wind, an answering call to the first one. It sounds closer, Rey thinks.

 _Definitely closer,_ she realizes when a third call rings out. Dragging herself upright, Rey struggles to stand. She needs to find some higher ground, somewhere the wolves cannot reach her.

She scrambles onward, every subsequent howl sounding closer and closer. Heart beating double time in her breast, she breaks into a sprint, the animal part of her brain screaming _danger, danger, danger_. She hears the underbrush foliage thrash next to her, the wolves easily keeping up with her pace. Rey yells, her voice cracked and hoarse, hoping to scare them away. A small hill looms suddenly in front of her, and she scrambles up the slope through the snow, hoping to get to a higher vantage point. Panting, she looks down and glimpses four sleek shapes emerge from the forest.

Their yellow eyes glint back at her in the darkness, growling and snapping at her.

With steady hands, Rey pulls an arrow from her quiver and works to notch it against her arrow. She’ll need to be prepared for them to attack once she hits one, trying to decide if she will have time to shoot again.

_So this is how it ends. Bloody and alone on some mountain, with no one to know where I am or what will happen to me. At the very least, I do not plan to go down easy._

Her first arrow whistles through the air, burying itself in the neck of one of the wolves, whimpering as it falls. The others snarl, beginning their charge up the hill. The bracelet remains forgotten on her wrist, the adrenaline narrowing her focus on aiming her next arrow.

She does not notice the lone wolf who has circled its way behind her until it is leaping for her throat. Rey yells, swinging the bow between her throat and the snapping jaws inches from her throat. Her foot slips in the snow and then she is falling, the world around her spinning as the wolf collapses on top of her. A brand of fire erupts along the length of her shoulder as the wolf snaps its teeth closed around it, and she screams while pounding her fists against its mouth, its nose, anything within the reach of her arms.

The ground shakes beneath her feet as she struggles, desperate, to escape from the wolf’s iron-tight grip. A dark shape flies above her prone form. Khyber's back legs strike out as he lands. A blow lands on the wolf’s haunches, the sickening crack of bone echoing in the night.

It lets go.

The wolf twists to face its new foe, and Khyber barrels towards her, his own teeth bared as the rider on its back urges him on. The crack of hooves connecting with bone sounds as Khyber jumps over Rey, the wolf falling silent and dead at their feet. The stallion bucks and leaps, long legs kicking out to try and hit the other wolves. They retreat, snarling and snapping only to have Kylo snarl back, his own teeth glinting in the moonlight. But they are outnumbered now, only two left to fight against three opponents. Snarling, the wolves fade like mist back into the edges of the forest.

Rey pushes herself upright, biting back a scream as her shoulder is jostled. The small noise drags Kylo’s attention back towards her. The look upon his faces darkens further as he takes her in, the way she cradles her injured shoulder even as she glares back at him. He picks her up with more gentelenss than she knew he possessed, one arm supporting her legs as the other cradles her back.

They make their way back to Khyber, who kneels without being asked. Kylo places her side saddle on the horse, then climbs on after her. The pain in her shoulder flares at each movement and Rey balks at the idea of riding all the way back to his mountain.

Khyber springs forward, powerful legs propelling them forward.

The beast’s great body thunders beneath hers, and though she glimpses the trees rushing by, they might as well be flying for how little she feels the movement of the stallion’s muscles beneath her.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispers, head coming to rest against Kylo Ren’s chest as the adrenaline drains from her veins and leaves behind exhaustion.

Kylo is quiet for so long she begins to slip into an uneasy sleep when he simply says, “I know.”

When she next opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the familiar feeling of a soft bed beneath her body and a warm fire crackling in the heart.

Kylo avoids her eyes as he approaches her. “The wolf didn’t pierce skin, but it did manage to dislocate your shoulder. I’ll require your help to push it back into position.”

She closes her eyes and gives him a sharp nod in agreement but says no words. Rey pushes herself up with her good arm, panting even from that small exertion. When he places his hands on her body, they glow pale in the low light. It’s the first time she’s seen them without his gloves. Rey notes that they look strong boned, his fingers long and finely formed, with a scar gone silver-white with age across the back of one hand. She only sees them for a moment before he presses lightly against her shoulder

“Breath deeply on my signal, and then I will push on your shoulder. Alright?”

She nods, gaze fixed on some distance point in front of her.

When he forces her shoulder back into its socket, she almost blacks out. Spots of darkness swim in her vision and a certain hollow noise rings in her ears.

“That’s it, you’ve done well,” he works to reassure her. Kylo helps lay her back down on the bed. “You wouldn't have been injured if I hadn’t driven you to flee. You would have died without ever having called for help,” he says, a small muscle under his left eye twitching softly.

“I didn’t even remember the bracelet at the moment—everything happened so fast,” she gasps out, still dizzy from the pain.

“Rey, I—”

And she stills, caught off balance as she realizes this is the first time he’s said her name.

“In my anger,” he continues, “And in my solitude, I have forgotten that compassion shines in some people as strong as the finest silver. Yes, they might have been hunting for food, and no, perhaps all did not deserve to die. What they are guilty of remains only between them and Death now,” he says as he reaches out to cover her with a woolen blanket. “I am a monster, but even monsters know when they are wrong. Rest now, and sleep.”

Between one blink and the next, Rey closes her eyes and slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

Rey worried the days would drag on as her arm healed and she recovered her strength. She assumed they would return to their former rhythm, with Kylo disappearing before the dawn’s first light and returning until the evening. The truth becomes apparent the first morning after, when she awakens to find Kylo still there, bathed in the morning’s rays as he sits at the wooden table. He leaps from the chair once he notices she’s awake, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor in his haste to stand up. She waves off his offered arm, preferring to make her own way over to the table despite the deep ache in her shoulder.

The growling in her stomach reminds her she hasn’t eaten anything since the afternoon the day before, and without further prompting she begins devouring the breakfast laid out before her. It is filled with delicious things: fried eggs and salty nuts, cheese and bread and even—to her amazement—fresh fruit, green apples which shine like emeralds and taste crisp and sweet between her teeth. The spread feels like an extended apology from Kylo, who watches her eat, a worried tilt to his mouth.

“I know of a few plants that when boiled and made into a tea are good for healing,” he begins once she finishes her meal. “They may alleviate your pain and soreness, though you must do your best not to move your arm for at least a fortnight. After that, it is up to your body to mend itself.” His mouth curves into a bitter line. “Healing has never come easy to me, and I do not wish to risk my heavy hand causing you undue harm.”

“And after a fortnight has passed?” she prompts him.

“After you are healed well enough to travel, then I will ask you whether you wish to return to Jakku.”

A sudden and overwhelming anxiety finds her for a moment, remembering how long now she had been missing from Jakku. “And your word? Have there been any strangers coming to the village?”

His eyes flash, but Rey steadfastly ignores it. If her parents returned and she wasn’t there…what if they searched for a young woman with braided hair and hazel eyes only to find her missing? And all anyone would be able to tell them was that she disappeared in the mountains…

But Kylo merely shakes his head. “No, I’ve kept my eye out for your village, and there has been no one new since the first snowstorm that led you to me.”

His words bring her only faint relief.

“The sooner you rest, the sooner you will heal,” he reminds her. Kylo guides her back to the bed, hands twitching at his sides, as if wanting to reach out and touch her. He fashions her a sling from long strips of torn linen, his fingers deftly tying the knot behind her neck. Rey wishes to argue, but her body cries with relief when she goes back to bed, and before she knows it, she is sleeping once again.

Kylo keeps her indoors for the next three days, nearly immobile while her injured arm rests in the sling. He hardly leaves her alone, save for brief pockets of time when he steps out to check on Khyber. He catches her with one of his books when he returns from one such excursion. Reading them was never explicitly forbidden, but neither did he ever invite her to investigate them. She freezes for a moment before tilting her chin up in defiance. If he really wanted her not to touch them, he should have said so long ago.

But Kylo isn’t upset. Far from it in fact. His eyes light up when she answers that yes, she can indeed read and write. He shows her one of the books she hadn’t read yet, a finely bound book with beautiful illustrations of flora and fauna inside.

“Would you like to read it together?” he asks her, tone cautious.

Going half mad from boredom, Rey agrees, and they spend the rest of the evening going over the book. When he speaks of the plants and the animals a certain softness enters Kylo’s face, a loosening of the muscles around the corners of his eyes. He explains in such fine detail the differences between boxelder and poison ivy she could recite them in her sleep. It is the closest she has ever seen him be open, and it is possible for a moment to pretend he is only a man. When next she bothers to look out the window, it is late, and Rey realizes they have spent all evening together.

“When you are better, if you’d like, I can take you to find some of the local fauna. The more impressive meadow blooms will lie dormant until spring, but some of the sturdier plants may be found under snow.”

Rey finds she does not abhor the idea, and in fact, is looking forward to going out.

After the third day, when the deep ache has lessened somewhat, Kylo gently presses a hand against her shoulder. The pain stings, but it is no longer the blinding pain of those first hours after her injury and Kylo declares her well enough to ride.

“I think you,” he says, adjusting the strap on her sling after he pulls her onto Khyber later that morning, “You will enjoy this. I’ve seen the look that crosses your face as you stare out the window, Rey. At least now you’ll have the wind at your back.”

Kylo shows her a new marvel every day after he takes her with him. Each day they travel to a different part of the mountain range, and Rey’s breath stutters at the enormity of what Kylo calls his own.

One day they come across a grizzly bear’s den. “Listen,” Kylo instructs, turning his head to catch the sounds that escape from further in. Rey can distinguish three separate animals breathing, one slow and deep, and another two softer.

“Those are a mother and her cubs. They are born in hibernation, spending all winter alternating between eating and sleeping. When spring comes and the thaw melts, they’ll emerge in look of food.”

Rey smiles, imagining a pair of brown, fat cubs curled one around the other, dreaming of a world they do not yet know exists.

Kylo stills, eyes widening as he takes in the first time she’s smiled in his presence. He tries to hide it, not wanting her to see him.

Another day, Khyber climbs for what feels like hours against a steep mountain cliffside, Rey again caught against the warmth of Kylo’s chest as they ride on. No matter how steep the trail or the unevenness of the terrain, not once does the stallion falter, each foot placed with extreme care to prevent from jostling Rey. The higher they climb, the colder the air gets, the wind stinging the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Turning her head so the wind doesn’t steal her voice she yells, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” is all Kylo replies. Rey feels his warm breath against the shell of her ear.

Later, when Khyber turns a corner along the winding trail, Rey’s breath stutters in her throat. They’ve emerged on a cliffside overlooking the valley, the early morning sun painting the clouds in shades of coral and tangerine. The mountain peaks stretch out before them, tall and proud, some of the peaks soaring above the clouds. It makes her breathe catch in her chest, for Rey has never seen such a beautiful sight.

“Thank you,” she says, voice alight with wonder, hands gripped tight in Khyber’s mane. “It’s beautiful.”

Kylo shifts behind her. “It is, isn’t it?” he agrees.

Rey glances back, trying to catch his eyes. There is the briefest moment when some strange emotion flickers across them, but it is gone before she can decipher what it means.

Later, on a clear night, he asks her if she would like to go stargazing. Rey begins to shake her head. The stars are beautiful, but she remembers spending long nights in Jakku staring up at the night sky and how she had felt small and lonely and insignificant beneath the tapestry of infinite stars. Except, she realizes she hasn’t felt lonely in quite some time. Kylo is often with her now, and even when they don’t speak, his presence at her side reminds her she’s not alone. The evenings spent reading by firelight, or the days spent riding along the range have kept them in close proximity to one another. The care with which Kylo has handled her injury and their quiet conversations have begun to fill an ache long held in her heart.

Moonlight bathes everything in its silver glow, bright enough to illuminate their path as they make their way towards higher ground. Once they reach a flat clearing and dismount, Kylo spreads a thick blanket on the ground. Grunting, Rey makes herself comfortable, hyper-aware of the inches of space that separate her body from Kylo’s. The galaxy shines above their heads, beautiful and infinite, as millions of stars shine like chips of ice in a navy sky.

Rey braces herself, but the old feelings of smallness never manifest. She exhales a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Do you know any stories?” Kylo asks her, voice breaking the silence around them.

“Only the ones I used to tell myself as a child,” she shrugs. “Look—” She raises a hand to point to a cluster of bright stars to their right. “You see the shape of a hare? I always imagined the rest of her family were on the moon, and she was just a leap away from joining them. She’d only been away so long because she was looking for a gift to take to them.”

“Rey, your parents,” he begins.

“Do you know any interesting myths? You must,” she interrupts him, tone slightly brittle.

Kylo sighs and runs a hand through his thick hair. She refuses to continue down that path tonight. Turning to point at a different cluster of stars, he begins to explain all the myths and stories associated with different ones, answering all her questions as she asks. Later, when they have lapsed into a comfortable silence, Kylo takes the opportunity to ask her a question.

“Tomorrow is the end of the fortnight needed for your sling. Your arm will not be healed completely, but the worst is behind us.” He pauses, and she knows he wants to hear her answer as little as she wants to give it

“Do you want me to take you back to Jakku tomorrow?”

Two moons ago, Rey would have said yes without hesitation. Now, she works to keep the word trapped behind her teeth.

“No, I don’t think I want to return yet,” she answers. “It’s not easy, being alone. Ask me again the day after.”

The starlight catches in his raven hair, transforming it silver and blue. With trembling fingers he slips off one of his gloves and extends his bare hand towards her, palm out. It hovers in the air between them.

“You’re not alone,” he whispers, voice soft as he stares at her.

She slips her own glove off, the air cold against her warm skin as she reaches towards him.

“Neither are you.”

The feeling of his fingertips ghosting against her own feel like a promise. She sees it reflected in his eyes, this strange spell that has fallen over them both.

* * *

Her shoulder heals more with each passing day. It hurts less now, and she doesn’t have to drink the bitter teas Kylo brews for her quite as often. Her days are spent with Kylo exploring the mountains, their evenings spent by the fire as they take turns reading aloud from the books in his collection. And every night, before they fall asleep Kylo asks her if tomorrow is the day she’d like to be returned to Jakku.

Rey always requests he ask her again the next day. There’s always some excuse; she hasn’t gotten to the end of the book they’re reading, she hasn’t braided Khyber’s mane yet, she wants to practice with her bow again. And every time Kylo nods, not quite meeting her gaze, afraid if he acknowledges it further she’ll change her mind. He murmurs in agreement that yes, he’ll ask her again tomorrow.

One of those mornings she wakes up to find Kylo gone. She shifts uneasily, accustomed now to his solemn presence accompanying her for breakfast. There is a note on the table, the cream parchment standing out in stark contrast to the dark brown of the dining table.

_Rey, something important required my immediate attention. I did not want to wake you, and this could not wait. I will return as soon as I am able._

The message is written in an elegant and neat script, the letters flowing across the page. It looks familiar to her, somehow, though she cannot quite remember how or why. Huffing, Rey takes the note and folds it in half, slipping it into her pocket. When she steps outside in her coat and gloves, she is not surprised to see that Khyber is gone as well. They’ll be gone for a majority of the day, most likely, so Rey decides she’ll go out and hone her foraging skills.

Armed with one of Kylo’s field guides and a woven basket she found among his belongings, she sets out in search of edible plants. There aren’t many that still grow in winter, but Rey is nothing if not determined. She inspects the bases of trees, searching through twisted roots for the yellow-white glow of mushrooms. Finding nothing, she walks further into the forest, intent on a cluster of shrubs which look promising. Rey plucks a blood-red berry from its branches, cupping it in the palm of her hand as she rifles through the field guide, hoping to find its entry. She grins when she finds it, the entry in the book identifying it as a hawthorn berry, hardier plants with edible berries.

She wastes no time in getting to work, using nimble fingers to pick those berries not frozen from the cold into her basket. They are small and slightly bitter, for they are sweeter and larger in summer when they have enough sunlight and water to grow. This does not discourage Rey, for she has half a mind to ask Kylo to help her make preserves with them instead, which she believes will be a fine use for the—

The ground beneath her feet trembles as the thundering of hooves sounds in the distance. She smiles, for it could only be Khyber making his way towards her. Maybe he’ll enjoy a fresh batch of berries as well, as a treat. But the smile is wiped from her face as they approach, for Kylo’s face is rolling with anger, like storm clouds over the horizon. Nothing good can come from such a look, she thinks. It’s not necessary to wait long for her point to be proven.

“Rey, I know where your parents are.”

The words feel like a punch to her stomach.

“Where? They’ve finally returned to Jakku?” She panics, dread pooling in her stomach. What if they looked for her only to notice her missing? What if they’d left already? “Kylo, you have to take me to them.”

She doesn’t understand the somber way he’s gazing at her, or why his jaw clenches at her words. Scrambling towards them, she ignores the dull ache in her shoulder as she pulls herself onto Kyhber’s back.

“We have to hurry,” she begs, as Kylo brings himself up in front of her.

“Don’t let go,” he instructs, placing her arms around his section. She squeezes once in acknowledgment and not a second later Khbyer bolts, powerful legs working up to a gallop, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground. The wind stings her face, bringing tears to her eyes, so she buries her face into Kylo’s broad back, shielding her face. She stays like that, the rhythmic rocking of the stallion running beneath her and Kylo’s deep, even breathes sending her into a trance.

After all these years of waiting, finally she will see her parents again.

The terrain beneath their feet shifts as the hours pass by, from the rocky cliffside of Kylo’s home to the forest floor, to the flat and even ground at the base of the mountain range. Rey catches glimpses of the terrain, once even spotting Jakku in the distance, but Kylo makes no move to stop, instead urging Khyber on and on.

Finally, when Rey fears the poor horse will collapse from exhaustion, Kylo pulls them to a halt in an empty field. Rey frowns, seeing that there seems to be nothing for miles around in any direction, just a mix of snow and mud as far as the eye can see.

“Where are we?” she questions, voice thick with confusion.

Kylo doesn’t answer for a long moment, his face obscured by the curtain of his hair. “What do you really remember of your parents?

Rey’s grip on his coat tightened even further.

“That they had to go away and leave me in Jakku when I was very young. They promised they’d be back for me, one day.”

“And why do you believe that?”

“Because it’s the truth.” It simply is, to Rey. Her parents would come back for her, as they said they would. She knows this the same way she knows the sky is blue, that the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, that she had to scavenge if she wanted to survive in Jakku.

“No, that’s not the truth,” he presses.

“This isn’t funny Kylo. Where are my parents?”

“It brings me no joy to show you this, Rey. I wish it were not so, for all that you trust my word.”

Dismounting, his broad form stalks towards an outcropping of strange rock formations, coming to stand before them. He turns to her then, sweeping a hand out as if to encompass all the barren field they find themselves in. “Look for yourself,” he says.

Rey slides off Khyber, and for a moment when her feet touch the ground they seem rooted to the spot. Dread fills her chest with each step she takes closer to Kylo. It takes her a moment to realize what the strange rock formations are, the dozens and dozens that surround the empty field. They’re headstones, though they lack any names or dates inscribed on them.

“Your parents are here, somewhere among the unmarked dead. They died a long time ago, and they’re not coming back.”

Rey shakes her head, eyes shut, refusing to look at him. There was a pain blooming in her breast, unfurling it’s thorns as each second passed.

“Have you always known the truth about your parents? Or have you just hidden it away?” A hand comes up to grip her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. But still she refuses to open her eyes.

“Rey, open your eyes.” When she blinks up at him, eyes glassy with tears, he continues. “Say it,” he urges her, and now there is no familiar softness in his face, only the mountain lord’s solemn gaze. The look pierces her as true as any arrow, his words burying themselves in her heart.

“They were nobodies,” she gasps, the truth tearing her apart like claws, tear tracks lining her cheeks.

“They’re dead, here, in a pauper’s grave in the outskirts of Jakku. They are never coming back.”

Rey knows he speaks the truth. And suddenly it is too much, these emotions bubbling in the chest and threatening to spill over. With a cry, she jerks away, turning to sprint, to run, to get away, as far away as she can from this place of pain and bitter memories.

She doesn’t hear Kylo calling her name, and if she had, she still would have ignored him. She continues running, the blood pounding in her veins, her breath burning in her lungs. Rey puts one foot in front of the other, pushing herself towards the distant horizon until her legs seem to buckle with exhaustion. But even then she pushes on, the dry fields transforming into a sickly forest filled with small, stunted trees. She runs until the muscles in her legs scream for relief and every breath sets fire to her lungs.

Then, and only then, does she allow herself to break. Her knees hit the ground, and Rey cries to no one but the empty sky above her.

Later, when she has no more water for tears, the world feels blurry around the edges, her mind blissfully numb for a few precious moments. When her fingers catch on the edges of her bracelet, a dull sense of acknowledgement burns within her. She brings up her wrist to her mouth, and with a jerk of her head, she breaks the threads.

When Kylo finds her, she can’t tell if it has been minutes or hours. She merely climbs atop Khyber’s back, numb from grief and sorrow.

“I want to leave,” she says. “Anywhere, anywhere but here.”

Kylo nods once before gripping Khyber’s mane and leading them away.

She welcomes unconsciousness as it slips over her.

* * *

When next she awakes, the boughs of pine trees arc above her head, the familiar view of the mountains present once again. Rey watches as they ride by their mountain—and then keep going past it. She does not have it in her to question it.

Only once they came to a rocky outcrop overlooking the western ridges do they stop. She does not protest when he carries her down, nor when he sets her down upon a pair of flat stones. Rey looks with eyes unseeing over the beauty and splendor of the mountains before her, only able to remember how it had felt looking down at her parents' graves.

“You were honest with yourself, although it stung and hurt. I—I have not been honest from the start, at least not completely.” Kylo rakes a hand through his hair, a faint growl emanating from his chest.

“I was not always the lord of these mountains,” he begins. “I was born, flesh and blood, to a mother and father.”

Seeing her shocked face, he shakes his head.

“But first perhaps I should start at the beginning. My grandfather, Vader, was a spirit of death, though not the god himself. He fell in love with a mortal woman who bore them twins: a boy and a girl. He loved her dearly, or so they say, though she died long before her children knew her. And one of those children, the girl, who was half spirit herself with magic in her blood decided to follow the life of Man.” There is a certain bitterness in his voice, old hurts from long ago never fully healed.

“She married a sea captain, though why she settled for him I will never understand. They were happy for some time, or so they said.” He is quiet for a moment, deliberating. “And then I was born. Though under a different name.”

It’s clear that he doesn’t like talking about his past, but that admission catches her off guard. She can hardly imagine him as a human child, once small and vulnerable. Curiosity gnaws at her, and before she can stop herself she asks, “What was your name?”

Kylo takes a shuddering breath.

“Ben. My mother used to call me Ben.”

_Ben_

It’s such a human name, simple and sweet. Rey mouths the letters, feeling the shape of them unfurl on her tongue. She stares at him, at his dark hair and brown eyes, and for a moment he appears more a man to her than the spirit she knows him to be.

She nods. “Ben. I like it.”

He stares at her mouth, at her lips forming that long forgotten name. Her clear eyes look back at him, and she feels like she sees him as likely few ever have.

“My powers manifested young, and they were volatile. My parents did not know how to control them. Or me. So I sought out answers on my own, desperate to control this power that my mother rejected and my father feared. I was isolated and scared, and that combination sent me into the arms of a dark entity called Snoke. He said he’d known my grandfather. He promised me I could be as great as my Vader, if only I trusted him.”

“And you did,” she responds.

Kylo nods his head. “I did. He told me I could follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, that I should embrace my power and forget the life I had known before. He promised me a place in the world and I—fool that I was—agreed.”

She watches his hands form into fists, knuckles gone white with tension.

“It was a trick all along. He awakened the full extent of my powers, but cursed me as the guardian of this mountain range, unable to leave. When I discovered his treachery, I plunged the mountains into a frigid winter and a scorching summer, half mad with rage. The animals suffered. Men suffered, whole families wiped out due to my selfishness.” A veil falls across his face, pain and guilt shining from his eyes.

“Once the fury lifted and I realized what I had caused, I tried to right it, but it was too late. After that, I promised myself I would only hold dominion over the animals and fauna under my care and interfere as little as possible in the lives of men. My curse and my isolation weigh heavy on me. I will not lie to you, I meant to let nature take its course when I found you out in the storm.”

Yes, Rey had always wondered why he’d decided to save her.

“So why didn’t you?” she asks.

“Because even half blind from the snow, on the edge of exhaustion, I saw that fire in you that refused to go out. You are—the strongest person I’ve ever known, Rey. You did not deserve the hardship you’ve gone through.” He grips her hands tightly in his as she shakes her head.

“Yes. You are more than what they did to you. Rey, listen, I believe there is something of magic in you as well. But even if there weren’t, you no longer need to be bound by their false promises.”

The words should sound dishonest, and yet Rey knows them to be true. She has always felt that sixth sense; a feeling that has guided her throughout her life as she scavenged, as she fought to live, as she spent her time with Ben. But it is so overwhelming, her parents' death and Ben’s past and her own emotions warring within her and it _hurts._

Ben makes a noise of concern in the back of his throat, brushing a palm against her cheek to catch the tears she hadn’t realized had overflowed. She does not resist when he pulls her into the cradle of his arms, blocking out the rest of the world until it is just the two of them.

“I want to go back,” she breathes out, the request caught in the intimate space between their bodies. “Take me back to the mountain.”

Ben’s arms tighten around her in response. His voice is thick with emotion when he answers her.

“Of course, Rey.”

* * *

There is a heaviness in Rey’s heart the day after. Ben looks on, wanting to comfort her, unsure if his touch will be welcome in the cold light of a new day.

Sliding from underneath the wool comforter, she makes her way on silent feet to the little library in the corner of the room. She drags her fingers across the spines of the novels kept on the tallest shelf of the bookcase, searching. The ancient book of poetry rests on the far corner, exactly where she had last placed it. She plucks it from the shelf and cradles it in her hands. Perhaps the unknown author’s words will bring some balm to her heavy heart.

Turning, she makes her way back to her bed, when she catches Ben’s gaze zeroed in on the book in her hands.

“I—where did you find that?” he asks, incredulous.

“It was hidden behind some other books, I found it when I first arrived.” She furrows her brows. “Should I put it back?”

“No! No, it’s—it’s alright,” he says. “It’s just been a very long time since I’ve read that book.”

Rey hums. “It’s my favorite. I read it a lot, those first couple of days, when you were gone for long hours.” She opens it, eyes catching on familiar and oft-read words. “It’s strange, to read something and have it speak so deeply to you. It brought me comfort, to read these words and feel seen,” she confesses, a little shy.

A sharp intake of breath sounds from across the room. Rey looks up, Ben staring back at her, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth trembling.

A tremulous smile spreads across his face. “I am glad that it helped you, that it made you feel less lonely. I had not opened it in a very long time, the writing was often painful to look back on.”

She pauses. “Did you buy it, before? From when you were still human.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t buy it. I wrote it, many years ago.”

Now it’s Rey’s turn to gasp, glancing back and forth from the little book held in her hand to Ben. She remembers the note he’d left her, how the penmanship had seemed familiar to her, though she couldn’t remember how. The way the book had been haphazardly stored, as if hidden by an erratic hand. And all along, the author she’d sought was before her all along. Without conscious decision, she walks over to him, something bright and warm filling her heart. She stops when she’s in front of him, pausing only a second before cradling his cheek in the palm of her hand.

Ben closes his eyes, and so close to him she can feel a fine tremor beneath her touch.

“Of course it would be you. Perhaps I knew something all along,” she says, her vision beginning to blur with tears.

“After that night in the forest with the wolves, I promised myself I would never harm you again. It was a foolish promise to make, I see that now.” He turns his head slightly and Rey feels his lips kiss the warm skin on the palm of her hand. “You don’t have to wait until the end of winter to leave. If I could, I would take you anywhere in this world if you so desired it.”

She shakes her head, never looking away from his eyes. There is nothing for her back in Jakku, not anymore. Rey doesn’t know where her place in the world is, but there is a piece of herself she sees mirrored in Ben, in the way her loneliness calls out to his. She’d like the chance to figure out her future with him by her side.

“Ask me again,” she replies. “About leaving.”

“What?” Apprehension flashes across his face.

“Ask me again.”

Ben lifts his hand to hers, large enough to cover it completely, anchoring him to this moment. Time seems to slow, and he breathes deeply, as if preparing to take a deep lunge off a clip.

“Rey, would you like me to take you to Jakku tomorrow?”

“No. Nor will I want to leave the day after. I think I’d like to stay here, with you Ben, if you’ll have me”

She watches hope shine in his warm eyes, as beautiful as the dawn breaking through after a long night.

“Of course,” he whispers, voice trembling with emotion. “Always.”

She winds a hand in his dark hair, and then they are kissing. It is a revelation, an epiphany. His lips are so soft beneath her own, tentative and searching, and she cannot help but want more of his taste.

She will not remember how they made it over to the large bed, only that they fall into it together, their arms and legs impossibly tangled up. Each piece of clothing they discard is one more opportunity to kiss newly bared skin. She skims her lips across the inside of his wrist when he divests himself of his cloak, he places wet kisses at the junction of her throat when she removes her coat.

She wants this.

Arousal sparks at the junction of her thighs at the languid way their mouths move against each other, hot and wet. He moans against her mouth, and it is like the rumble of an earthquake beneath her feet, vibrating through her body. The first tentative brush of his fingers against the warm place at the crux of her thighs is explorative, his large fingers gently cupping her. But it’s not enough, only serving to fan the flames of her desire higher, and she shifts her hips against his hand, searching. When the pads of his fingers catch on a spot towards the top of her entrance, pleasure arcs through her like lightning, her back arching off the bed in surprise.

“Rey?” he gasps against the tan skin of her neck.

But she only shakes her head, digging her fingers into his arm and urging him to do it again. So he does, his fingers slick with her wetness as he rubs tight circles against the bud at the top of her slit, cataloging her every gasp and whine of pleasure to his every movement. She’s gasping now, feeling something low in her stomach coiling tighter and tighter by the second. When he slips one large finger inside of her she—breaks, the muscles in her legs and arms tensing as a wave of pleasure washes over her.

Ben murmurs soft words into the nape of her neck, one hand gripping her waist while the other continues to work her over, adding a second finger now that the tenseness has left her body.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, placing kisses against the corners of her eyes, on the apples of her cheeks.

Consciousness filters back in, bit by bit, and she feels something hot and hard resting against her thigh. She shifts slightly and Ben’s breath hitches, his own hips jerking slightly against her. His size makes her breath hitch too, that ache beginning to build again as she imagines him inside of her, filling her.

“Please,” she gasps, and it is all the encouragement he needs, his large body making a home in the cradle of her thighs. Rey spreads them wider to accommodate the sheer breadth of him. He takes himself in hand, the tip red and weeping, and he looks on in wonder as she lies eager beneath him.

She jolts as the blunt head notches against her entrance. Ben stares down at her, breathing heavy as he thrusts forward, bit by bit. The muscles of his pale arms stand out in stark contrast as he holds himself still above her, fighting not to thrust quickly.

He moans. “Rey…”

“You can move,” she encourages him, her own inner muscles tightening around him.

Groaning, he thrusts forward, knocking the air from her lungs as he drives deep. Rey feels as if she is about to explode out of her skin, the sensation of having him all the way inside her overwhelming and new in the best way.

She grabs more tightly onto him when he withdraws, loathe to have him far, but she needn’t worry, for he returns just as quickly. Soon their hips find a rhythm, the push and pull of their bodies echoing in the warm room. Rey feels it again, that growing pressure point at the apex of her thighs as Ben thrusts into her, over and over. His hand makes its way between their bodies, settling once again at the top of her entrance.

“Let go. Rey, let go,” he begs her as his hips begin to stutter, and she does, completely.

Rey comes, mind going blank, her muscles clenching around him, as if to keep him with her. Above her Ben groans. The muscles of his back flex as he thrusts deeply into her once, and then twice, trying to get as deep into her as he can. A moment later he cries out and his hips go still as she feels a warmth inside of her. His harsh breathing echoes against the shell of her ear, in sync with hers, and when Rey slides her hands into the thick strands of his hair, she pulls him down to kiss him again.

She feels his mouth curl into a smile beneath her lips, and she realizes she never wants to stop kissing him. She doesn’t have to be alone anymore, and neither does he.

* * *

Later, once the sweat has cooled from their skin and their breathing has settled into a more familiar rhythm, they talk.

“Was it worth it, the price you paid for your powers?” she asks him, resting her head across the firm expanse of his chest

He deliberates his answer, gently smoothing his thumb back and forth across her shoulder blade. Rey has never been touched with affection, at least not as long as she can remember anyways, but she realizes this is what it must feel like. Warmth suffuses every point of contact between his body and hers, and Rey closes her eyes to better enjoy the feeling. She is beginning to drift off to sleep when he finally answers her. He bends his face towards her and whispers the words across her forehead.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I think I can bear it now, knowing that it led me to you. I would do it again if need be, and bear it gladly, if I knew in the end we’d meet.”

“And would you give it up now, if you could?”

There is no hesitation in his answer. “Yes. I don’t remember what it’s like to be a man, but I would try, for you. If that is what would bring you joy.”

She places a chaste kiss above his beating heart. “You already bring me joy.”

“Rey…”

“The winds are not so frigid now, and every day the snow melts a little more. Soon spring will arrive. I think—” she pauses. A hint of a blush paints the apples of her cheeks, conviction shining from within her hazel eyes.

“I think it would be a fine time to be wed,” she confides to him, her voice clear and earnest.

His heart beats like a wild thing beneath her palm. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Rey smiles. “Always.”

Ben leans down to kiss her, eager, flipping them over and pressing her body deeper into the softness of the bed. “Then it shall be so.”

She smiles beneath him, snaking her arms around his shoulders and pulling him even closer. They do not get out of bed for the rest of the day.

In the morning, when she awakens, Rey turns towards Ben.

She sees it right away in his eyes, open and looking back at her, feels it in the body beneath her hands, alive and present. She can no longer catch a glimpse of the winter wind in his gaze, or the raven’s black wings in the slant of his brows. Time itself seems to stop. The face that looks back at her is simply that of a man’s, beloved and mortal.

It is an impossible feat and yet it is true.

“Ben?” Rey reaches out a trembling hand to cup his warm cheek. 

“I—I don’t know how this can be. The curse, it must have been broken. Rey, you’ve helped me break the curse,” he whispers, clutching her hand between his own.

He smiles at her, his face transforming before her eyes into something open and soft. His teeth are a little uneven, she realizes, but it only serves to make him look young and more boyish. Something warm and light settles in the space between their shared bodies.

In that moment Rey has a vision, a premonition, one of a long and happy future which lays ahead of them. Of morning sunrises and long days of golden sunlight. A chance to build a home of their own, something truly theirs. She sees the skin of her stomach taut and round, heavy with child, Ben’s arms wrapped tight around her. She hears the peals of children’s laughter ringing in the air, children with fat rosy cheeks, soft dark hair and hazel eyes. Of time spinning its web across their lives, the seasons passing as they grow older together. Of a lifetime spent never being alone again.

Rey laughs, tears of joy leaking from beneath the edges of her closed eyes, feeling a twin dampness against the hollow of her throat where Ben has buried his face. Rey looks out the window at the immense tapestry of the clear blue sky. She reaches within her heart to let the last tendrils of apprehension and fear slip free. Outside, the swallows whistle their chirping song, the first notes of spring float in the air, and the future dawns bright and shining before them.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> In the second to last paragraph of the story Rey has a vision of her future with Ben. She mentions the physical description of being pregnant as well as mentioning their future children. It starts after the line "Something warm and light settles in the space between their shared bodies." 
> 
> All right, if you made it this far, thanks for reading! I was inspired while writing this story by a couple of fairytales, mainly 
> 
> \- the Russian fairytale [Morozko](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Father_Frost_\(fairy_tale\))  
> \- the [Winternight Trilogy](https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/series/WT1/winternight-trilogy) by Katherine Arden
> 
> The poem that Rey finds in Ben's poetry book is [Speak Of The North! A Lonely Moor](https://engpoetry.com/charlotte-bronte/speak-of-the-north-a-lonely-moor/) by Charlotte Bronte.
> 
> I'm also [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/spicybensolo) if you'd like to say hi!


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